


make it so you cannot speak

by dualce



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, I don't even know what I'm writing, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP kinda, alternate ending of book/movie, exploring kinks, wow never thought I'd put that in the tags!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dualce/pseuds/dualce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They melded their lives together easily enough, although Bilbo worried that the Shire would be too boring, too plain for Bofur, with no gems or gold or homes of slate and stone or adventures beyond what they were to eat for second breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make it so you cannot speak

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first contribution to the hobbit fandom. Not the thorin/bilbo fic I've been slaving over for a week, or even the sweet bilbo/bofur AU that refuses to be resolved. Um. I guess the smut just called to me. //flies into the sun

Since coming to live at Bag End, Bofur had not complained once, seeming not to mind the looks and the whispers and the outright snubbings many of the hobbits gave him in return to his greetings. But as friendly and cheerful as he was, Bilbo worried that Bofur might be hurt, not so much by the rudeness, perhaps, but by the lack of company. Although Bofur assured him otherwise, he seemed quite glad to be at the Prancing Pony, talking and laughing and singing with the travelers who resided there.

It made Bilbo happy to see his dear Bofur happy, and he was content to sit and relax with a beer and occasionally join in singing when Bofur encouraged him. Mostly he kept to his bench, and watched and listened to the chatter around him. As the evening got on, the words being bandied around became more salacious, enough to scandalize a respectable hobbit. 

Fortunately, Bilbo was not all that respectable, being part-Took, so he did what a hobbit did best and made himself unnoticeable and listened in to the conversation of the Men beside him. Bofur was off playing a game of cards with a few rough-looking folk, always eager to make a bit of coin.

"And she kept slapping at me the whole time, as if she hadn't started the thing in the first place! Said she merely wanted a cuddle." The younger Man growled, jittering his mug of beer against the table. Seemed fair enough, Bilbo thought, who quite enjoyed a good cuddle, whether or not their was any playing about to begin with.

"Aye. Sometimes they can be a bit rough, with the nail scratching, and the hair pulling," the other Man commented, drinking his beer deeply.

Bilbo blinked, thinking upon himself and Bofur, who had done but a little in bed. Always pleasurably, but gently. Not biting or scratching or pulling. Well, only accidentally, Bilbo amended, thinking of the times he'd gotten Bofur's long braids caught under his hands. Bofur hadn't complained, but Bilbo had figured it to be because he was being patient with Bilbo's lack of expertise.

Could it be…? He frowned, thinking. Could it be enjoyable, enough to be likable?

"Ah, the hair pulling is not so bad!"

"Nor the scratching, if done rightly." They both grinned at each other.

"Sometimes you just want to do what you will, ya know," one of them said, looking listlessly into his beer.

"True," the other agreed. "Sometimes you just have to tie them up and have a way with them."

"Like a pony!"

"A prancing one, indeed!"

_"You'll_ make her prance!" They laughed uproariously, slapping at each other's back, before moving on to different topics, and Bilbo shrank away, having heard enough to keep his head full for several evenings, if not a good month.

Tie up? Treat roughly? Bilbo kept thinking of what this could mean, even when Bofur came to collect him, rather quickly after having relieved the Men of their money, and talked enough for the both of them on the way home.

The walk was enough to clear their heads, and when they undressed for bed Bilbo did not resist when Bofur pulled him close, nuzzling his whiskers along the line of Bilbo's neck, and Bilbo tilted his head back to left the dwarf kiss and nibble at the thin skin there.

Wouldn't he say if he liked it? Bilbo thought, even as Bofur was carefully smoothing his hands down Bilbo's sides, rough calluses catching at the soft, tender spots. Bilbo put his hands upon Bofur and returned the sweet gestures, but his mind would not stop thinking.

Bofur was grasping between them, burying his face into Bilbo's curls, and Bilbo was thinking of Bofur's long hair, digging his hands in, and pulling enough to tip the dwarf's head back. He was thinking of placing a bite upon the shoulder that was in front of him, but kissed it instead. He was thinking of Bofur, spread out on the bed, tied, unmoving as Bilbo made his way along his body, kissing and _oh!_

Bilbo arched as he came, hard enough to surprise him, so that he clutched at Bofur's shoulders as the dwarf worked his hand between them and stared blindly at the wall. Bofur came shortly after, and seemed not to notice Bilbo's daze, perhaps thinking it was due to the alcohol. He pressed a brief kiss to Bilbo's mouth, and then sank down into the bed beside Bilbo and promptly fell asleep.

Bilbo stayed awake just long enough to clean them off, cheeks still red long after their exertion, confused at the thoughts that had made this encounter so much more intense than usual.

He mulled the thoughts over the next few days, long enough that Bofur asked him curiously what was on his mind, so that he blushed and mumbled an excuse and turned away and went for a walk down to Hobbitown to clear the cobwebs out.

In town he nodded a greeting to the Hamfasts, who passed by with a sheave of dried herbs, and wandered slowly along the path until he stopped abruptly in front of Mrs. Bolgur's shop. He had bought a bolt or two of cloth from the mistress, and never paid much mind to her window dressings, but now he could see amongst the sheets of twill and linen several little baskets of ribbon.

Bilbo scratched his neck, looked back and forth to see if anyone was about, and then ducked into the shop.

He went home straightaway with a length of ribbon in his pocket, burning as if it was the Ring itself, as if everyone could see the perfectly decent thing that he had purchased for indecent use. In front of his bright green door he paused, and then slowly pushed it open, peering in to see if Bofur was around. Creeping in, he hurried through his house until he was inside the bedroom, and pulled the ribbon out of his pocket. It was silky, smooth and colored like cream foam on top of a cup of hot chocolate. 

"Bilbo?" Bofur called from somewhere, faintly, and Bilbo jumped. Swallowing, he ran to the dresser beside the bed and stuffed it away, then ran out the room as if nothing had happened.

The ribbon lay there all day, and Bilbo could not quite put it out of his mind, even as he and Bofur supped that evening.

"Now, then," Bofur said, as they finished their meal of fish, bread, steamed carrots and broccoli (more fish and bread than vegetables for Bofur, but Bilbo was just glad he could get Bofur to eat anything green at all), and set his fork upon the table. Bilbo had a sudden panic that Bofur would say that he found what was in the dresser by the bed, but instead he only asked, "And what did you get into today?"

Bilbo relaxed and spoke easily enough, and they chatted comfortably as they cleaned the table and the kitchen up, and then retired to the bench outside for a smoke before bed time. Bofur smoked his dwarfish blend, and Bilbo his Longbottom Leaf, and together watched the stars spiral through the sky. It was almost as if they had lived together for many years, although in reality less than one had gone by since Bofur had appeared on Bilbo's doorstep, exhaustion plain upon his face. Bilbo had tended to him just as Bofur had once done for him, and watched with relief as a warm glow returned to Bofur's skin, and his whiskers grew pert once more. The smile that often graced his face during their journey now seemed permanently affixed, and only grew fonder as it looked at Bilbo. (Bilbo, to his credit, never realized once that the same was happening to himself.)

They melded their lives together easily enough, although Bilbo worried that the Shire would be too boring, too plain for Bofur, with no gems or gold or homes of slate and stone or adventures beyond what they were to eat for second breakfast. Bofur seemed not to mind, seemed happy to be where he was, but Bilbo worried.

Perhaps he wanted more, Bilbo thought as he smoked, arm pressed lightly into Bofur's. Perhaps he did not ask because he thought the same, that he didn't want be a bother! Bilbo turned to look at Bofur at this thought.

"Yes?" Bofur said with a smile around his pipe.

"I - nothing," Bilbo said, and when Bofur's eyes kept on him, "Just…glad to see you."

Bofur chuckled. "You see me all the time, twelve times a day! Sure you haven't grown weary of this old dwarf?" He said impishly, but with the barest hint of concern hid in his voice, and Bilbo patted his hand.

"Not one bit," he said softly, and Bofur grasped his hand in return.

Later, they tamped out the pipe-weed, and headed to bed, and Bilbo thought to himself, _courage_. Which nearly made him laugh. For all the adventures and danger and hardships they'd been on together, it was their small domestic bubble that Bilbo was afraid to pierce or add discord.

Bofur sat and took off his boots at the door, and Bilbo made a move to the bedroom, only to turn at the last minute to pop into his den as his nervousness won. Bofur did not even comment, just went, humming, to the bedroom, and Bilbo clenched and unclenched his hands before hurrying after him.

The dwarf was shrugging off his jacket, hanging it on the rack next to his hat, and started to unbuckle his belt as he turned round. "What is it?" he asked as he pulled his tunic over his head. Bilbo watched as the muscular shoulders he was so fond of were revealed, as well as the soft, dark hair that covered him nearly from top to tail.

"I -" Bilbo shook his head once and moved forward, pressed himself to Bofur, who dropped his tunic to settle his hands on Bilbo's waist. He willingly opened his mouth to Bilbo, and they kissed until Bilbo felt the dire need for air and turned his head so he could gasp in a breath.

Bofur chuckled against his ear, hands working to untuck Bilbo's shirt at his waist so he could stroke his thumbs across the soft skin at his hips. "Eager tonight, aren't we?" The dwarf said bluntly, kissing the side of Bilbo's neck to soften his words. "What's gotten into my little hobbit?"

Bilbo swallowed, eyes closing at the feeling of Bofur's mouth across his skin, and then snapped open as he recalled just what his intentions were. He grasped the dwarf's shoulders and spun him around to the bed.

Bofur raised an eyebrow but walked backwards willingly enough until his thighs hit the back of the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Bilbo kissed him, hands moving against his chest, pushing him back until he was against the pillows, and Bilbo kneeling before him.

"Oh my," Bofur said, breathing heavily. "Mighty forward, we are."

Bilbo watched the bob of his throat and the way his eyes darkened. It was something that Bofur certainly did not dislike, not even a little, and that was enough for Bilbo to get his courage.

"I - overheard these Men in the Prancing Pony," Bilbo said.

Bofur, who had reached down to lay a hand against the swell of his trousers, stopped. "I worry to hear the end of this thought," he said wryly, but went silent as Bilbo hurried to the edge of the bed and reached into the dresser and pulled out his newest purchase.

Bilbo looked at Bofur anxiously, hoping to have not offended him, and was pleased - more than pleased - to see the dwarf's eye move from the ribbon in his hand and back to Bilbo, a sly smile curling his lips.

"I - if you would be willing to try," Bilbo faltered, pulling at the ribbon nervously, which snapped taut between them.

"On me?" Bofur finished for him, and Bilbo nodded. "Oh, Mister Baggins," Bofur said, and his smile stretched wider. "I'd like that."

Bilbo relaxed at the enthusiastic consent, and watched as Bofur stretched out his hands above himself, wiggling his fingers. The hobbit crawled up the bed and up the length of Bofur's body, until he could reach around him and loop the ribbon through the bed frame, and then several times around Bofur's wrists. The ribbon was silk, about a hobbit's thumb in width, and Bilbo was certain that Bofur could tear through it easily enough. Just in case, he tightened the knot only just enough to contain the dwarf's wrists.

Bofur lay still below him, not touching or playing with him, although Bilbo was sure he could do so with his mouth. But he let Bilbo affix the ribbon, and crawl back down him to kneel between his legs.

Bilbo's heart was thumping furiously at the sight, and the knowledge that they were about to engage in something a decent hobbit would not even dare to consider. This, which he had never considered but a fortnight ago, this, which did not match his daydreams but went far beyond them: Bofur, clad only in loose trousers, hands bound above him in silk, chest flexing minutely at the strain of his arms, legs spread to accommodate the hobbit, who could now, possibly, do as he very well pleased.

"Alright?" Bofur said, calmly, but Bilbo had seen the quickening of his chest that spoke to his excitement. Still, he was glad that Bofur had his wits about him, enough to calm Bilbo down with a few simple words.

"Yes," Bilbo said, and paused, uncertain. He had never had this kind of freedom before, although he knew he had only to ask for it, certain Bofur would give him nearly anything. His hands hovered above Bofur's ankles.

"Go on," Bofur said. "Why look when you can touch?" He tightened his arms, and Bilbo followed the movement, watching the pull of ribbon against his wrists.

Bilbo dropped his hands to rest on Bofur's ankles, then, and lifted his eyes to meet Bofur's. "If you feel uncomfortable - about anything - just speak," Bilbo said, and Bofur nodded.

"O' course." Then he gave the hobbit a cheeky half-smile. "Can't if you don't do anything, now."

Bilbo smiled back and let his hands settle a little more, stroking the fabric of the sock that covered Bofur's feet. That was the first course, to get rid of the clothing. The socks were off instantly to reveal delicate dwarfish feet, and Bilbo rose up on his knees to pull at the tabs on Bofur's trousers. Bofur was already more than half-hard, and Bilbo was gentle as he eased the trousers down his legs, with Bofur helping with a lift of his hips.

Bilbo tossed the clothes aside, barely aware of where they went. He was more eager to drink in the sight of Bofur, laid out in front of him, and not a bit ashamed, either. Bofur was watching him in return, dark eyes gone even darker, erection twitching against his stomach, begging for attention.

Which would not be granted at the moment, although Bilbo's own erection insisted otherwise. Bilbo started with the legs, tracing the bones and the muscle and the funny patterns that the hair made until he was at the knees. Bofur watched all of this calmly, not saying a word, until Bilbo was at his thighs. His breath hitched at the tender spots, the soft skin inside his thighs, where the hair strangely grew less thick. Bilbo skipped past the curve of his erection, tracing up the hipbones and past the stomach, palms gliding up the arms until their heads were level, and there Bilbo pressed his lips hard against Bofur's, until Bofur parted his lips to let Bilbo push his tongue in, hands tracing across the ribbons that bound Bofur.

"Aye, that's it," Bofur said against Bilbo's cheek when he pulled back. "Do what you will," he said huskily, and Bilbo swallowed again.

"Like I said - "

"I heard ya, but if you don't get on with it, you'll hear naught but complaints," Bofur said, and Bilbo dropped his head a moment to roll his eyes at the brusque objection.

"Then perhaps I should make it so you cannot even speak," Bilbo said, although he doubted that would ever be the case. Sometime to save for another time, he thought unexpectedly, and grew warm at the thought.

Bilbo bent back down and kissed Bofur again, growing more confident, enough to weave his fingers through a braid and pull.

If he still possessed any ill thoughts of this venture, they were gone as Bofur made a muffled sound, and let his head tip back. Bilbo grew bold, enough to nip at the skin below Bofur's braid, and press hard enough to make a mark. Bofur responded with a groan of pleasure that had Bilbo feeling a thrill course through his body, and he pressed his hands all over Bofur, wherever he could reach, and arched against the thick body below him.

"Oh! That's the spirit," Bofur was saying, along with a string of nonsense words of encouragement, and Bilbo sat up so he could capture the dwarf's mouth, hands tugging at his braids, and rest back against Bofur's lap. He rocked back and forth, keeping Bofur silent with his tongue as their erections rubbed together, until a thrum of heady desire coursing through him insistently demanded _more_.

Quickly he pulled the bottle of oil from its place on the shelf below the dresser, unhappy to lose contact with Bofur's warm skin. He fumbled with the lid, coating two fingers, before easing himself back onto Bofur's thighs, which came up to cradle him as he leaned back.

Bofur was making low, throaty noises as he watched Bilbo trace a teasing finger against himself before pushing a finger in.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked in a faint voice, focusing on the stretch of muscle and skin. He gasped, going quicker than usual, much quicker - usually he left it to Bofur to do this act - but he found himself not caring too much, eager for something else, something better - and bigger - to be inside of him.

"This - you are - " Bofur shook his head and his gaze moved up from following the movement of Bilbo's fingers to meet his eyes. "I could watch you forever," was what he finished with, as Bilbo sank a second finger into himself, and the desire in his eyes was so stark that Bilbo's knees shook and nearly gave out.

"Yes," Bilbo said, thickly, wanting to say something in response but not very capable of saying much at all at the moment. He hurried to finish stretching himself, barely registering the slight, aching protest of his muscles, and after he was three shuddering fingers in, he pulled them out and dropped back to his knees, fumbling with the bottle once again.

The oil spilled easily into his hands, and he coated Bofur's erection, half-hearing the dwarf moan at the touch. He wished he had more time to play, but he was much too far desperate to feel Bofur inside of him to wait, and besides. It was for him to do as he wont, wasn't it? Bofur had yet to make any complaints, for all his grouching earlier.

Shifting back onto his heels, he lowered himself until the blunt tip of Bofur's shaft was against him, and he reached below to guide it in, gasping as he sank steadily down, until his bottom was resting against Bofur's hips.

Bofur was saying things Bilbo could barely understand, curses that would make him go wide-eyed in normal circumstances, but instead made him grip his hands against Bofur's chest to push himself up, and then back down, and he moaned alongside the dwarf at the motion.

He could really go at whatever pace he wanted, discovering that it was up to his poor knees and thighs to do the work, however fast or slow as he pleased. He wiggled a bit to get settled, and Bofur opened his eyes and lifted his head from the pillows.

"Show me what you 'ave - " he said cheekily, lapsing back into a groan when Bilbo pressed his hands against his chest again and rocked up and down. From there it was a matter of keeping steady on his feet and knees, and watch Bofur's arms flex and strain against their ties. He found himself moving faster and faster as Bofur begged him too, the dwarf digging his heels in to thrust up. Bilbo pulled at himself in sloppy timing with his movements, and soon enough Bofur arched below him jaggedly several times, sinking down into the mattress, leaving Bilbo to move slickly against him until the same pleasure overcame him.

It took Bilbo a few long moments to come back to himself, and when he opened his eyes, the evidence of his enjoyment was plain against the dark hair of Bofur's chest, and he stared at it in wonder.

Bofur was peering at him between the muscles of his arms with a content smile.

"Good, yeah?" He said, and Bilbo looked up and blushed at his expression. He climbed off of Bofur, gasping when he was unexpectedly empty, Bofur echoing his soft sound. He reached up and released Bofur, tugging the knot undone, and Bofur stretched his arms down with a murmur, wrapping them around Bilbo.

"We should clean up," Bilbo tried to say, even as he pressed a kiss to Bofur's lips and snuggled lazily against his side.

Bofur made a discontented sound but reached for the small cloths that Bilbo had put into the drawer, lest the dwarf try to use one of his doilies, and wiped them off quickly.

"Good?" He said again, when they were tucked against each other.

"Mm," Bilbo agreed.

"Maybe we should go to the Prancing Pony more often," Bofur said slyly.

Bilbo made a noise and buried his face in deeper. He was tired, his legs still a bit quivery, and wished to sleep, but Bofur kept talking.

"Who knows _what_ ideas you might get."

"Shh, or I'll use that ribbon on your mouth," Bilbo muttered tartly, and was jostled as Bofur laughed.

"I can think of something else I'd rather have in my mouth," the dwarf said wickedly, and Bilbo swatted him lightly on the chest.

"Next time I'll - " Bilbo caught himself, and then blushed. "Yes, next time," he finished, and Bofur nuzzled closer to him with a smile that told him he wholeheartedly agreed.


End file.
